


Taking Care

by VergofTowels



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Kink Meme, M/M, Roadtrip Shenanigans, Sickfic, Vomiting, four boys being annoying in a car, well three annoying boys plus Ignis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-29 20:19:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10143215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VergofTowels/pseuds/VergofTowels
Summary: Written for the prompt: "Ignis gets sick on the road, something reasonably serious but not actually life threatening, and the bros step up and care for him until he recovers."Ignis comes down with a stomach bug and the boys end up looking after him.  Fluffy and more or less plotless character piece.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For this prompt: https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/3016.html?thread=1662920#cmt1662920
> 
> Kink meme is nsfw.

"Gods, it's _hot_ ," says Noctis, groaning. He has his arm thrown over his face to block out the sun, which is shining brightly despite the earliness of the hour. The low fog that had risen over the nearby wetlands in the evening is almost burned off and it's going to be a nice day for driving. It _is_ hot, though.  
  
"Take off your shirt," says Gladio, who hasn't bothered to put one on. He bends and finishes putting away the tent in its sleeve. "It's only going to get hotter the later it gets."  
  
Prompto sighs from his chair next to the prince. "I'm _so_ glad we have a convertible. I couldn't imagine sitting in a black car on a day like this without the air streaming through my hair."  
  
Gladio snorts. "We'd have air conditioning if it wasn't. _I'm_ glad we have a convertible so I don't have to _smell_ you. Two days without a shower and you reek."  
  
"Well, so do you!" Prompto squawks. "And you're always covered in like, blood and stuff!"  
  
"We'll all be able to have a proper bath tonight," says Ignis mildly, though his look puts a stop to the complaining. "Eat your breakfast and then we'll get on the road for Lestallum." He takes his frying pan off the camp stove and starts to dish up scrambled eggs and garulessa steak left over from last night. It's a fairly sumptuous breakfast by their usual standards and Noctis and Prompto are eager to dig in. Gladio comes for his own plate after dumping the tent with their bags. He leans his hip on the table and eats standing up. Ignis sips his coffee and starts to wipe down the pan.  
  
"Aren't you going to have any?" Gladio asks, mouth full of steak. "You've outdone yourself, as usual." He holds out a forkful. Ignis smiles, but shakes his head.  
  
"I ate earlier, while you three were still asleep." It's not a lie: he had a bit of toast and some egg whites. But he hadn't been particularly hungry then, and he isn't now. The Ebony will get him through to lunch.  
  
Gladio shrugs. "Suit yourself. Gotta maintain that girlish figure, huh?"  
  
Ignis smiles a little. "Oh, indubitably." He puts away his cooking utensils. "But who do you think I do it for, hm?" Gladio growls a little and leans in to kiss him, but Ignis pushes his face away. "Oh, don't. Finish your food so we can get on the road."  
  
"Hate it when you tease me," Gladio says, but turns his attention back to his breakfast. He glances over to Noctis and Prompto, but they don't seem to have noticed the exchange. Noctis is leaning back in his chair, looking well on his way to sleep again, and Prompto is carefully exchanging their plates so that he can eat the last of Noctis's eggs. Gladio doesn't stop him. Serves the prince right for being so lazy.  
  
Ignis packs the camp stove as the sun continues to rise in the cloudless sky. He's wearing one of his last clean shirts, but already he can feel sweat pooling at his neck and under his arms. He'll be glad to get out of the wilds of Duscae and on their way. It's about five hours to Lestallum from here, but with the promise of a nice hotel ahead, the trip should hopefully pass quickly. If he can keep Prompto from attacking the radio and Gladio from telling dirty jokes and the car from breaking down... it should be a fine evening. He drains his can of coffee, relying on the caffeine to fortify him.  
  
They break camp shortly and carry the gear up the sloping embankment to the Regalia, trying to avoid the mud and the bugs. The open road ahead looks clear and welcoming as Ignis slides behind the wheel. He starts the car, lowers the roof, and off they go. He expects smooth sailing from here.

\---  
  
"We've already listened to this track five times," Noctis moans. "Can't we listen to something else? I know you have like, hundreds of songs on your phone, Prompto." He reaches his foot across the center console to kick his friend's arm, none too gently.  
  
"Ow! Lay off, it's a good song," Prompto cries. "But _fine_ , I'll switch it when it's over. What do you want to listen to, _Star Razors_ or _Garibaldi_?" He leans away from Noctis's boot and starts to scroll through his music.  
  
Noctis frowns. "Why do I only get two choices? And why _those_??"  
  
"'Cause that's what I wanna listen to," says Prompto, and dodges another kick. Ignis huffs as Noctis's foot comes close to knocking over his coffee.  
  
Gladio puts down his book, scowling. "I'm not listening to any more techno crap. If it sounds like a computer having a seizure, it's _out_."  
  
"That's not what it sounds like!" Prompto pouts. "It takes a lot of skill to make music like that! They've got a soundboard and it's all done by hand and stuff. I can show you a video when we get to the hotel."  
  
"I don't want to see a video because I never want to hear it again," says Gladio. "Put on something that's actually good, like _Drag Rage_."  
  
Noctis and Prompto both groan and launch into a string of loud protests, talking over each other. Ignis takes a hand off the wheel to massage his aching temples. It's only been an hour and his hopes for a peaceful trip have been dashed. Perhaps it was inevitable... After four days of camping in the open air, they're now cramped in the car, forced to be near each other. But it hasn't even been that _long_. It's madness.  
  
"Why do you always get to pick the music anyway?" Noctis asks, apparently back to berating Prompto. "I'm the prince, and it's also technically my car now, _so._ " His irritation covers up the hitch in his voice at acknowledging that fact.  
  
Prompto misses it anyway. "Uh, _duh_ , it's because I'm shotgun?? It's obviously _my_ job." He fiddles again with his phone and the current track of dizzying electronic bleeps is replaced by one utilizing what sounds like a lawnmower for the drop. It's grating.  
  
"What the _hell,"_  snarls Gladio, and leans up to try and pull out the auxiliary jack. Prompto starts fighting him off with a series of high-pitched "No no no!"s, practically leaning backward over the car door.  
  
"Just give him your phone," Noctis says, scowling. "It's fine, whatever he puts on. You can't be in charge of the music just because you're up there. You only get shotgun because you'll puke otherwise!"  
  
"Hey man," Prompto gasps, pushing Gladio's face away and trying to get Gladio's hand off of his shirt. "Trust me. No one wants me to blow chunks all over this beautiful vehicle." He wriggles around again, panting. "This is just a privilege that comes with my handicap ACK GLADIO STOP"  
  
Ignis wishes Prompto would stop talking about vomiting. Perhaps it's the noise or the heat, but Ignis feels his stomach roll uncomfortably. Maybe he should have eaten more breakfast. The Ebony he drank feels like it's sloshing around inside. He swallows.  
  
Gladio yanks the phone away from Prompto, who roars, and starts to go through it. The jack comes free of the radio and static blasts over the airwaves. Noctis groans and covers his ears, sinking in his seat. Ignis wishes he could do the same.  
  
"Your music is shit," Gladio says, flicking through it as Prompto hangs over the seat and slaps at his back. "Have you got anything on here that wasn't made in the last five years? Where are the classics? I mean, _Lady Rain_? _Six Feet Under_? This is shit."  
  
"No it's not!" Prompto yells, deeply offended. "Those are platinum artists!"  
  
Ignis takes a turn on the road and has to avoid a pothole. The swerve doesn't seem to phase Prompto, who's still practically standing in the car, but it does make his stomach roll again, then cramp. He can feel a fresh sweat break out on his forehead and he slows the car a little.  
  
Gladio has finally decided on something he approves of, and turns back to Prompto. "Here," he says. "Put this on, and don't fucking change it."  
  
"Dude, just give me my phone back!"  
  
Noctis whines. "Can we just do something about the static? Please?" The noise is a _bit_ overwhelming.  
  
"Fine," Prompto snaps, and he plugs the phone back in. The static, mercifully, is replaced by the dulcet tones of an electric guitar squealing through an overwrought solo.  
  
_"This_ is shit," Noctis says, starting the argument all over again.  
  
Ignis's palms are clammy on the wheel and he knows - he _knows_ \- he's going to throw up. As the phone changes hands again, he pulls the car over to the shoulder and stops. The other three fall silent as he turns off the motor. "Please," he says quietly, voice strained, "sort this out before I get back." He opens the driver's side door and gets out of the car.  
  
"Where are you going?" Noctis asks, alarmed.  
  
Ignis opens his mouth to answer "Not far" and ends up retching instead.

Not much comes up, the first time. He's able to grab a fence post to steady himself as he retches again. He shouldn't have had so much coffee. It burns on the way out.  
  
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," says Gladio, and he gets out of the car. Ignis waves him off as he shudders and spits. He's not done, or it feels like he's not. His breath is ragged and he's dizzy with the sun beating down on his neck. Gladio ignores him and comes over, laying a hand on his back. The pressure doesn't help and Ignis bends again, stomach revolting.  
  
In the car, Noctis cringes. "Turn off the music," he says, and Prompto does so quickly. They rummage around the interior until they find a few unopened bottles of water. Noctis brings one to Gladio.  
  
It's another ten or fifteen minutes before Ignis straightens, feeling absolutely drained. It's too hot, and too bright. He slips his glasses off and into his pocket mechanically. Gladio rubs his back, and this time it feels somewhat soothing. Ignis lets him.  
  
"Should have said you didn't feel well," Gladio says, mildly chiding, and he hands over the water. His amber eyes are full of concern. Ignis sticks the bottle against his forehead before opening it. It's not very cold, but that's okay. It feels nice anyway, and he can rinse his mouth.  
  
"Consider this the announcement, then," Ignis mumbles in response. "I was fine until now."  
  
"I'll drive," says Noctis. "There's a gas station pretty near here. We can rent a caravan for a few days."  
  
Ignis shakes his head, letting Gladio guide him back to the Regalia with a gentle hand in the small of his back. "I'd rather we get to Lestallum... I don't want to delay too long." He takes Noctis's seat and leans his head back, breathing slowly.  
  
"Are you sure?" Prompto asks. "Because that's kind of a long way..."  
  
Ignis closes his eyes as Gladio settles in beside him. "Yes, I'm sure. I'll be more comfortable in the hotel anyway. I'm feeling better now, already." Sort of true. "Noct, do you know the way?"  
  
"Yeah," he says, adjusting the seat. "Probably."  
  
"Filling me with confidence."  
  
"We'll get there," he says. "I remember. Gladio knows, too. We're fine." He makes to turn the key in the ignition and hesitates. "Do you want to rest for a while, or...?"  
  
Ignis shakes his head. "Let's go. I'll be all right." His stomach is still roiling, but it doesn't feel as urgent now, and he's fairly certain he already emptied it. Would he prefer to lay down for a few hours? Yes. But the backseat of the Regalia along the side of a Duscaen highway isn't at all ideal. Perhaps if he's lucky, the motion of the car will lull him into sleep.  
  
Noctis still seems reluctant, but after trading a glance with Gladio in the rearview mirror, he shrugs and puts the car into gear. It's really a straight shot to Lestallum from here, so they should make it by dinnertime no matter who's driving.  
  
\---  
  
"I think we've passed that tree already," says Prompto in a small voice. It's dusk and they still haven't reached the sloping cliff where Lestallum perches like a watchful zu. Noctis is glaring at the road already and makes a barely-contained sound of annoyance.  
  
"No we haven't."  
  
"We have," says Gladio. "You should have taken that left. Take it this time."  
  
"I don't think we _want_ to go left," Noctis protests. "Isn't Lestallum to the northeast from here?"  
  
"No," says Gladio. "Take the left. And keep your voice down."  
  
Ignis is stretched as well as he can be in the backseat, knees folded up and head resting on Gladio's bare thigh. It had previously been leather-clad before Ignis's stomach had rebelled somewhere past the Coernix Station in Alstor. He's sleeping now, uncomfortably, face flushed lightly with fever. Gladio cards his fingers through Ignis's bangs, damp and hanging limp after his hair gel was sweated out.  
  
They reach the left and Noctis takes it. Half an hour later they come out to the cliff road and everyone sighs with relief. Lestallum is lit up and waiting for them.

Noctis parks by the gas pumps in Lestallum's business district, navigating the Regalia into a narrow spot next to a truck packed with vegetable crates. The Leville Hotel, where Iris is expecting to meet them again tomorrow, is a bit of a walk through the twisting streets, but they shouldn't get lost on the way _there_ at least. Noctis sighs and leans against the steering wheel as the Regalia ticks and cools. He's exhausted. In the back seat, Gladio touches Ignis's cheek lightly.  
  
"Iggy," he says, "we're here. Time to wake up." It takes a fair amount of patting before Ignis stirs, which is a bit worrisome in itself, but eventually he opens his eyes. They're glassy with fever and he frowns confusedly up at Gladio.  
  
"Where?" His voice is rough. Probably a sore throat from before.  
  
"We're in Lestallum." Gladio pets his hair again. "Time to go to the hotel and have a nice cool bath."  
  
"...Sounds good," Ignis sighs, sitting up with an effort. As usual, the air here is oppressive with humidity and it starts him sweating again as soon as he moves. Noctis and Prompto have slipped out and are waiting in the parking lot with the bags, yawning and sending worried glances toward the car. Gladio gets out and comes around to the driver's side.  
  
"I'll carry you. No objections." He opens the door and holds out his arms. Ignis tries not to get distracted by the way Gladio's tattoo ripples over his muscles, but everything is distracting.  
  
"I'm capable of walking," he says, but makes no move to get out of the car. He doesn't want to move. His stomach feels tight and horrible, his head aches.  
  
"That sounded like an objection," says Gladio, and he reaches in to put his hands under Ignis. Ignis finds himself lifted disgustingly easily and he sighs. "Reminds me of school," says Gladio, closing the car door with his foot. "You used to love being carted around."  
  
Ignis blushes, or thinks he does. He already feels hot all over. "Stop... Noctis will hear you."  
  
Gladio nuzzles his hair. "Don't you worry. We're okay. Now let's get you settled in a nice hotel room."  
  
The four of them head up the roads to the Leville, Noctis and Prompto leading, Gladio bringing up the rear. They draw plenty of looks. Prompto remarks that it's weird that no one else in Lestallum ever wears black. Noctis mentions that Gladio is carrying a dude wearing only boxers and his crownsguard combat boots.  
  
The night clerk in the hotel seems reluctant to let them in the door, much less rent them a room, at least until Noctis plops down a bag of gil. After that, she's sweetness and light like usual, and even offers to have a bellhop show them the way. Noctis brushes it off and they head wearily up by themselves.  Like the previous times they've stayed, the room is made up to perfection, refreshingly cold, and smells lightly of lavender. Prompto dumps his duffel bag on the floor by the far bed and sighs deeply. "Thank the gods for featherbeds," he groans. "Rock paper scissors for the shower?"  
  
"Iggy's first," says Gladio, carefully letting Ignis down to his feet again outside the bathroom door. "Then I'm going. You two can take as long as you like after that." He wants to have Ignis as comfortable as possible as quickly as possible, and then tucked into bed. Their strategist, usually the one who takes care of all of them, looks dead on his feet.  
  
"That's fair," says Noctis. "...Can we get you anything in the meantime, Specs? Water or... anything?"  
  
Ignis starts to fumble with the buttons of his shirt. "An antacid, maybe. I don't really want to eat, but see if you can have some broth sent up. And you can take some money to go eat in town. I'd... rather not have the room smelling of room service."  
  
"Okay," says Prompto. "I'll call them now." He goes to the phone as Gladio guides Ignis into the bathroom to help him undress the rest of the way and to run a cool bath.  
  
The broth turns out to be an okay idea. Ignis manages half the bowl before having to put it up and lay down. Gladio just eats protein bars from their bags as the others go out. He brushes Ignis's bangs behind his ears and rubs his shoulder as he dims the lights.  
  
"Thank you, Gladio," Ignis murmurs, letting his exhaustion take him. "I'm sorry about this. Will you be able to manage tomorrow?"  
  
"Sure we will." Gladio leans down to kiss his forehead. "Don't you worry your devastatingly gorgeous head."  
  
"Flatterer." Ignis brushes his fingers along Gladio's cheek before he sighs and dozes off.  
  
Noctis and Prompto get back quickly, and they don't need reminding to be quiet. They shower and dress for bed without trouble and all four of them are laying down in the dark by 11, falling into a much-needed sleep.

\---

They let Ignis sleep in the next day. He deserves it, after all the work he does, and since he's still feeling so shitty. Gladio assumes the role of next in command by virtue of age and experience and delegates tasks. They do have errands to run, but more than that he wants to give Ignis some peace and quiet.  
  
So Noctis is sent to turn in their bounties and collect the promised recompense. Prompto is sent to do the shopping, heading off to the market with a list of curatives and ingredients that they found in Ignis's bag. Gladio takes it upon himself to stay close to the hotel in case Ignis needs anything, but also takes care of the household chores. Their laundry is in sore need of being done, so he takes it to the laundry room provided for guests. It's easy enough to chuck everything in, and there's soap there anyone can use.  
  
Ignis wakes around noon, groggy but seemingly eager to sit up. He still has a fever, but he's able to stomach some medicine, and Gladio makes sure he drinks plenty of water.  
  
"I appreciate you looking after me," Ignis says, cradled to Gladio's chest. "I'm sorry about yesterday. Your pants..."  
  
Gladio shrugs and keeps rubbing Ignis's back. "It happens. I have a little sister, so that kind of stuff I'm used to. Are you feeling any better?"  
  
"Yes, thank you. I'm hoping it's a 48-hour thing... I think I should be well enough again by tomorrow."  
  
"Don't push yourself so much." Gladio leans to kiss his forehead again. "You've got to take care. There's only one you, you know."  
  
"Oh, don't be dramatic." But Ignis strokes his arm lightly, reassuringly. "Where are the boys?"  
  
"Off getting supplies. They should be back soon, though." Gladio kisses him once more, then shifts him off gently and stands up. "And I have to check the laundry."  
  
"My my," says Ignis, a smile playing about his lips, "maybe I should get sick more often."  He leans back against the pillows. "It's rather nice to take it easy."  
  
Gladio points at him. "Don't you dare. I'll go crazy with those two, I swear it. You just sit tight now, darling. I'll be back in half an hour."  
  
Ignis hums in acknowledgement and closes his eyes, grateful and feeling like maybe things are looking up.  
  
Of course, it never goes as planned... Noctis shows up several hours later, reward gil in pocket but carrying a new broadsword that was entirely out of their budget. Prompto comes back with several bags of odd-looking groceries they don't need, saying he thought it would be okay to get substitutions since he couldn't find what was on the list. And it turns out Noctis is allergic to the laundry soap and can't stop sneezing as soon as Gladio brings in the basket.  
  
But at least Ignis has several days to sort everything out before they hit the road again. It's really the thought that counts.


End file.
